| I would not have you speak through messengers|
And therefore I have come myself to hear you-
| A rust consumes the buds and fruits of the earth;|
The herds are sick;children die unborn;
and labor is in vain
| the god commands us to expel from the land of Theves|
an old defilement we are sheltering
| Until now I was a stranger to this tale |
AS I had been a stranger to the crime
|thus I associate myself with the oracle and take the side of the murdered king||Oedipus|
| ...No man in the world|
Can make the gods do more than the gods will
| How dreadful knowledge of truth can be|
When there's no help in truth! I knew this well,
But made myself forget. I should not have come
| I say you live in hideous shame with those |
Most dear to yo. YOu can not see the evil.
| He has brought this decrepit fortune-teller, this |
Collector of dirty pennies, this prophet fraud-
| I am told that heavy accusations |
Have been brought against me...
| ...I am the kind of man|
Who holds his tongue when he has no facts to go on.
| I am welcome everywhere; every man salutes me, |
And those who want your favor seek my ear...
| Poor foolish men, what wicked din is this?|
With Thebes sick to death, is it not shameful
That you should rake some private quarrel up?
| Have no dread of them [prophets].|
It is God himself
Who can show us what he wills, in his own way
| He came to me, touched my hand with his, and begged|
That I would send him away to the frontier district
Where only the shepards go.
| The groom leading the horses |
Forced me off the road at his Lord's command...
| But come; let someone go|
For the shepard at once. This matter must be settled.
|If I am not telling the truth may I die myself||Messenger|
| For God's love, let us have no more questioning!|
Is your life nothing to you!
MY own is pain enough for me to beat.
|You will die now unless you speak the truth||Oedipus|
| Ah God!|
It was true!
All the prophecies!
| Surely, friend, we have grief enough already;|
What new sorrow do you mean?
| He is calling for somemone to lead him to the gates |
So that all the children of Kadmos may look upon
His father's murderer, his mother's--no,
I cannot not say it!
| Apollo. Apollo. Dear|
Children, the god was Apollo.
He brought my sick, sick fate upon me.
| Oh never to have come here|
With my father's blood upon me.
| I have not come to mock you,...,|
Or to reproach you, either.
| The woman in there--|
Give her whatever funeral you think proper;
She is your sister.
I could say much, if you could only understand me,
but as it is, I have only this prayer for you;
Live where you can, be as happy as you can--
Happier, please God than God has made your
| Think no longer|
That you are in command here, but rather think
How, when you were, you served your own
| No mortal eyes but looked on him with envy, |
Yet in the end ruin swept over him.